Page 125 of The Light Within

Julien

From the fountain on the lawn, Julien stared up at his father’s manor house, its darkened windows the hollow eyes in the face of a cold, unfeeling giant. The stone walls, once grand, now seemed to sag under the weight of decades of silence and gloom. There was no warmth in this place, no light or laughter had ever graced its halls. Julien’s only comfort was that, in a couple of hours from now, this would all be over. This would be the last time he’d ever set foot in this house, the place haunted by countless ghastly memories from his childhood and beyond.

The sky had deepened into a bruised purple, the last traces of daylight fading. Upon arriving at the airport, Julien discovered that there were no seats available on any flights to Paris that day. Consequently, he flew to Brussels and then transferred. It really wasn’t his day, as both seats ended up being economy. In hindsight, Julien should have driven the awful rental car all the way back, but he’d left it behind in case the others needed it. He really was a saint, truly.

Before he could unlock the heavy door, one of the cleaning staff opened it, cloth in hand. “I saw you from the window,” they said cheerily. “Mr Montaigne is in the drawing room.”

The woman disappeared, leaving Julien to navigate through the corridors alone. He found his father and Carrie on lounge chairs near the lit fire. Carrie’s hand flew to her mouth as she stifled a gasp, jerking slightly in her chair. Her husband twisted his head, composing himself much more swiftly.

“Julien,” Carrie said. “This is a… surprise.” Then, with a glance at his father, she stood up, exiting towards the dining room.

After tentative, slow steps, Julien took her place opposite his father. The man appraised him in his standard way, eyes roving up and down before settling on Julien’s scarf that he was loosening. “That scarf of yours is rather peculiar. Am I really to believe thatthisis in vogue, presently?”

Julien flashed him a wide smile. “Perhaps if you’d step out of your comfort zone, you’d discover there’s a world of fashion out there, besides stiff suits.”

The air grew heavy with an unspoken tension as they engaged in a silent battle of wills.

It was his opponent who relented first. “I presume you’re not here to debate our sartorial preferences, are you now?”

“No,” Julien said softly, his voice steady as he assumed a mask of impassive calm.You’ve got this.“I’ve been considering your offer—the one from before Christmas.” He braced himself. Would his father really accept this direct conversational approach, bypassing any mention of hotel break-ins or car chases through quiet French villages?

“Go on,” his father replied, his eyes betraying a deep calculation behind their lined facade.

“I’ve thought about it, and you were right. Weareall each other has left, and that does count for something.” The words sickened him to his core. “Plus, our interests and ambitions do align. I desire nothing more than to progress further at MEET, if the offer from Jonathan Steele is still on the table. Senior Executive, correct?”

Julien waited. His father nodded, idly swirling his whiskey glass.

“Jonathan knows the scope of my talents. He knows I can go all the way. Between the three of us, we can do great things. Keep improving the world, just like you said.” Julien was rambling now. Laying it on too thick. He clamped his mouth shut.

His father inhaled the scent of his drink before taking a large sip, rolling the liquid around his tongue before swallowing. “You may recall, during our conversation at that…quaintcafé, I inquired about the possibility of Cinnamon Saunders assisting with a matter.” His gaze pierced Julien like a knife.

“If I’m going to join you, I need to know exactly what I’m getting into first. I need all the information. Then I can decide if it’s appropriate for Cinn to assist us or not.”

His father’s effort to hide the slight narrowing of his eyes was nearly undetectable. “Certainly,” he replied smoothly. “As I mentioned, I’m confident this partnership will serve everyone’s best interests.”

“Alright then. I’m flying home tomorrow morning, so I want to see it all this evening. Learn everything there is to know about this project of yours.”

His father’s jaw twitched. Had Julien taken it too far with his demands?

“Well then, I’ll see what I can arrange. Feel free to help yourself to a drink.” Nodding at the cabinet, he left the room, presumably to make a phone call from his study. Julien did not take his father up on the offer of alcohol, as tempting as that was. This plan required the clearest head possible.

His father returned, marching straight back through the archway. He ran his hand over his salt and pepper beard. “Arrangements have been made. We can depart immediately.”

Julien’s heart rate rocketed. Was this all going to be that easy?Surely not.Calculating his next response carefully, lest he reveal any cards, he asked, “What? To where? Do you not have copies of the paperwork here?”

His father’s eyes lit up in that way they did when he delighted in having the upper hand.

Ha. He’d boughtit.

“For this, it’ll be easier if I show you,” he declared.

TheMachina Tenebriswas evidently something he enjoyed showing off: one of his father’s many shiny toys.

His father collected his coat, then led the way to his garage. His driver had his feet up on the desk, newspaper open. Upon hearing their footsteps, he jumped up with a start, his face flushing with embarrassment. “Has there been a change of plan, sir? I thought we were done for the day. Where are we going?”

“Père Lachaise.”

The driver wasn’t surprised, but Julien was. Why on earth was his father taking him to the cemetery where his mother and sister were buried? But he kept quiet, slipping into the back of the car.

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